


Another One Bites the Dust

by Jenalop3



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, High School/Fight Club AU, Mentions of Blood, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 01:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6401707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenalop3/pseuds/Jenalop3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce finds a way to release his aggression.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another One Bites the Dust

“Ok, there a few things you need to know.” Stark proclaimed as he ducked through the hole in the chain link fence.

Bruce followed his shirt catching on the fence. “Yeah, what's that?”

Bruce had kept to himself after the move. Making friends was hard even at his old school, here at this new school he preferred to hide in the back rows under his hoodie and sulk. That is, until this kid in a red and yellow leather jacket cornered him in A.P. Physics.

Last picked for anything and everything, Bruce jumped as the kid dumped his load of heavy text books on the black top and proclaimed them lab partners.

“S’up?” His eyes were sharp and his grin a touch feral.

Bruce shrugged a shoulder and sank further into his hoodie.

“I'm Tony Stark.” He said offhandedly. “And your Bruce.” Bruce nodded because this was true.

“Not much for conversation, ain't cha?” He shot Bruce a grin, that was more teeth than was comfortable. “That's cool, I'm more for talking anyway.”

Just as they were setting up their experiment, weights and pulleys at the ready, Stark let a bomb drop.

“How did you get those bruises?” He was focused on recording their data, pen at the ready.

Bruce felt all the air leave his lungs, as his hand subconsciously rubbed at the yellowed spot on his ribs. His mouth opened and closed in shock, ducking further and further into his hood.

“I saw them in the locker room.” He supplied before Bruce could even compile the necessary functions to ask. “You got a bully already?”

Bruce shook his head, dark curls falling into his face.

Stark was quiet a moment, the buzz of students chatting surrounding them in a cocoon.

“Your old man then?” At the tightening of Bruce’s jaw, he nodded knowingly. “That's tough, buddy. I know how that feels.” He shrugged making a face.”Kinda, my old man can't seem to find the time to rough me up let alone acknowledge that I'm alive.”

Bruce felt a snarl forming on his lips. How did this chattering idiot know how it felt. How did he know what it felt like to fear your own home, how did he know what it was like wandering the streets just to escape. How did he know what it was like pleading with your mother to up and run, until it was to late.

“It eats you up inside, the anger.” He nodded at Bruce, “ I know something that can help with that.”

“Are you trying to sell me drugs?” Bruce asked, more than a hint of a snarl in his voice.

Stark laughed, loud and long. So long in fact, Mr. Richards barked to keep the noise down and get back to work.

“Not exactly,” Stark said quietly, ducking his head. “Look, I know something that can make you feel better. If your interested meet me at the skating rink at ten to midnight tonight.”

The bell shrilled and Stark leapt to his feet, dumping his books into his bag.

“And dress in something you can move in.” He waved and turned for the door “See you tonight, New Blood.”

Bruce had no idea what had possessed him to sneak out of his aunts house the moment she fell asleep, hop on his bike and peddled to the abandoned Skate World. He had found Stark leaning up against a dark street lamp, waiting for him, ten minutes to midnight. Stark pushed off and motioned for Bruce to follow him around back and through the fence.

“So the rules are as follows,” Stark held out his fingers, as Bruce righted himself. “You tell nobody.”

“Okay.” Bruce tried to move on, but Stark stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“ Nobody, nobody. Anyone you see in here, you’ve never seen them here. You don't mention or allude or hint about this at school or at home, anywhere.” Stark’s face had lost the humor that had been present since they had met. “In fact the moment we set foot in there, I ain't Tony Stark anymore. You call me Iron Man, comprende? ”

Bruce quirked an eyebrow. Things were starting to get a little weird. He was under the impression that Stark was taking him to some kind of smoke den, but now he was pulling out aliases and shit.

Suddenly Stark was close, looming threateningly over Bruce. “Comprende?” He repeated voice a low growl

“Comprende.” Bruce appeased, raising his hands. “When do I get my own code name?”

Either Stark didn't get sarcasm – doubtful – or he didn't care, because he backed off immediately, his wild grin back in place.

“Not until you prove yourself, New Blood.” He clapped Bruce on the shoulder and pulled him into his side. “Now rule number two…”

“There are more?” Bruce interrupted, as they both made their way toward the skate rink’s back door. The door was propped open with a broken brick, dim shuddering orange light spilled from the crack. The closer the two came, the more Bruce could hear the sounds of voices. An animalistic cacophony of cheering, howling, and booing rolled out to meet Bruce’s ears.

“Of course, just a few more.” Stark pushed the door, it squeaked on rusted hinges. “Try to avoid the face, it's off limits. That was my contribution.” He smiled and and motioned to his face, “how do you think I would survive with out this handsome mug, huh.” He laughed at his own joke and led Bruce down a dingy hallway. “Also, if Rescue calls an end”

“Who is ‘Rescue’?” Asked Bruce.

“That’s the point of a code name, New Blood. Anyway if she calls an end, it's over. If your opponent yields, it's over. No if, ands, or buts. Also please kindly refrain from breaking bones, sometimes it can't be helped, but it makes things easier.”

Bruce turned to stare at Stark in confusion. What exactly had he walked into.

A squeaky voice called from the end of the hall. “Who’s there!?”

“Just me Spider-Man.”

A short skinny figure solidified from the shadows, sliding off his stool. A boy, a little younger than Bruce stared up at the duo. He held out a big puppy paw for Tony, the two boys bumping fist.

“Didn't recognize you there, Iron Man.” He shot Bruce a glare, glancing up and down, sizing him up. “ Who’s this?”

“Don't know yet? He’s New Blood.” Tony leaned forward, wagging his eyebrow.

Spider-Man gave a wild whoop, raising scuffed knuckles into the air. He turned and hurried into the mass of people gathered in the space that had been the old skate rink.

The stink of people, sweat, old floor polish, and the tang of blood was the first thing Bruce was able to recognize. He saw faces flash in the mob of bodies, teens crowded around in a circle on the rink floor, some drinking from bottles, others smoking, all cheering and calling in a feral chorus under the orange glow of a the Jerry-rigged lights. Bruce and Tony pushed their way through the throng of people and smoke, familiar faces appeared in the crowd, people Bruce had seen but couldn't quite put a name to; the Blonde boy from gym who was good in archery, the giant from Norway, those odd twins a few grade behind him passed a joint back and forth, Tony clasped hands with a black kid Bruce had seen at lunch, even the fucking blind kid was there leaning on his cane with his head cocked.

And in the center two more teens faced off against each other.

One was a behemoth of a kid, he was on the wrestling team if Bruce wasn't mistaken. His big clean shaven dome of a head shone in the wavering glow of the lights. He stood ram-rod straight, with his arms loose at his sides. He lumbered stiffed legged and circled his opponent. His face was void, no emotion crossing the baby fat still clinging to his cheeks.

His combatant was the most beautiful girl Bruce had ever laid eyes on. Thin and lithe, she was milk pale with red lips and redder hair. She had the face of a fox, sharp and intelligent, green eyes intent on her adversary. Her body was loose, and she was crouched low with her first raised to her chin. Where the boy was stiff limbed, she was water, flowing gracefully from one foot to the other.

It was The Kraken pitted against Helen of Troy, completely mismatched. Bruce watched in awe as the bald boy, without restraint or emotion, reeled back and swung his massive fist at the red girls middle. His great meaty paw coming down like a hammer, but the girl wasn't there. She danced away on light feet, ducking his arm and landing a blow to his exposed ribs. She was out of range just as fast.

The crowed roared and cheered, as the bald boy found his feet and whirled around, much faster than Bruce would have thought and lunged for the girl. They spat blood and gnashed teeth as fists were throw and blocked. The red girl easily keeping pace with the bald boy, a gruesome game of cat and mouse. Bruce was unsure who was who.

“KINGPIN, KINGPIN, KINGPIN!” one side of the circle chanted, stamping their feet to the beat of their voices.

“WIDOW, WIDOW, WIDOW!” The other side countered, Tony lending his voice to the crowd, pumping his fist into the air.

The red girl, Bruce guessed was named Widow, grabbed at Kingpin’s massive arm as it flew past, missing her head by mere inches, and curled herself around the appendage. She pulled back a foot to kick out at him, but before she could land a blow Kingpin raised his arm and slammed her into the dusty wooden floor.

Again.

And again.

And again.

The Kingpin’s fans roared and went wild, while those who cheered for Widow booed.

“Goddamn, can the Black Widow take a beating!” Tony called over the crowed.

Bruce nodded in numb awe, as the Kingpin raised his arm yet again, but the Black Widow’s grip had gone slack and she fell to the floor in a heap. The Kingpin paused in surprise, and that was all the Black Widow needed to sweep her legs under his and send him tumbling to the ground. Then she was on him, fist and feet, elbows and knees finding all of his soft spots. She was never in the same place twice and the Kingpin couldn’t get ahold of her. Her fury was fed by the crowed as they screamed for blood. Soon enough another red haired girl hurried onto the floor, blowing a whistle and waving her hands.

The Black Widow immediately backed off, like a trained attack dog. Her slim, bird like shoulders heaved with each breath as boos and cheers and the occasional “Aww, Rescue!!!” echoed in the space.

The Kingpin lumbered to his feet, his face a grim mask of blood, fire flashed in his eyes – the first sign of any true emotion Bruce had seen from him - and he bellowed. As he lunged for the Black Widow, his arms were grasped in the firm hold of the Norwegian kid, the Schools quarterback, and a large black kid Bruce had seen lurking around the art hallway. Their boots slid across the slick floor as the Kingpin raged forward, Rescue blew her whistle hard in his face.

“ENOUGH OR YOUR DONE, KINGPIN!” She hollered.

He straightened up, wiping the blood from his nose. “She broke a rule.” His voice was husky and calm, even as rage quivered through his bones. “I demand retribution.” He held out his bloody hand for Rescue to observe.

Rescue shook her head, her long waterfall of hair shimmered like fire. “She never made a direct hit. Your request for retribution is invalid.” She waved him off the floor, and took the Black Widow’s wrist and raised the shorter girls fist into the air. “VICTORY TO THE BLACK WIDOW!”

The crowed erupted into cheers and howls, people stamping and clapping, excitement and victory running through the crowd like alcohol through veins. Even Bruce found himself joining in, crowing and hooting as the Black Widow made a victory lap around the ring.

“Pro tip!” Tony called into his ear “Always bet on that crazy Russian bitch to win!” He laughed as the kid from earlier handed him a wad of bills.

“And on Kingpin to loose his cool.” The new kid added. Tony tossed his head back in glee, bringing a bottle to his lips.

The new kid smiled at Bruce and held out his hand, “The names War Machine, you got a name yet?”

“Ahh, no.” Bruce answered, as War Machine held his hand in an iron grip, grinding the bones against each other.

War Machine’s smile became feral, like a wolf picking up the scent of pray. “New Blood! Does Rescue know yet?” He asked Tony.

He nodded, spilling his beer down his front. “Spidey went off to tell her.”

“Tell her what?” Bruce asked looking from one crocodile grin to the other.

“New Bloods fight their first night.” Came a voice like hell’s bells from behind Bruce. He whirled and found himself face to face with the Black Widow. “Or didn't Iron Man tell you that?”

His face flushed as she smiled cooly. Sweat soaked her forehead and bruises were blooming along her exposed mid-drift, she dabbed a dirty towel at the base of her skull, removing it to examine the blood that stained the fabric.

“Ohhh shit girl, you deserve a beer for that.” War Machine handed over a cool frosted bottle to the little red head. “The Kingpin packs a wallop.” He rubbed a spot on his jaw.

She took a long pull from the bottle, replacing the towel to her head. “Fat fuck got a lucky hit.” She snarled.

“ATTENTION EVERYONE!!” Rescue’s voice rent the air, the crowd falling as silent as a group of teenagers high on bloodlust could.

The Black Widow bared her teeth and elbowed Bruce in the ribs. “Good luck Big Guy.” She leaned up on tip toes to press a bloody kiss on his cheek “ I'll be rooting for you, but not betting on ya.” She moved off into the crowed with a wink, her hips catching Bruce's eye.

“None of that now, New Blood.” War Machine grabbed his shoulders tearing his eyes from the Black Widow. “Gotta keep you head in the game.”

“TONIGHT WE HAVE AN INITIATION!!!” Rescue raised her voice to the crowed.

They cheered, thirsty for blood. “ NEW BLOOD, NEW BLOOD!” They chanted low and deep in their throats.

“Here take this.” Tony shoved a bottle in his face, tilting it up into his mouth.

“And get this off.” War Machine tugged at his hoodie.

They ripped his hoodie from his back, beer dribbled down his chin as they pushed him out into the middle of the ring. Rescue caught him by the wrist and paraded him around. Bruce nervously ran his finger through his hair, his eyes nervously taking in the faces about him. Tony and War Machine stood to the side, faces turning red from shouting, Spider-Man howled like a wolf and swung like a chimp from ropes hanging from the rafters, Black Window sat perched on the rink railing leaning against the Blonde archer, green fox eyes trained on him. Bruce even spotted Kingpin’s bald dome and vacant eyes from the shadows.

“WHO HERE IS BRAVE ENOUGH TO CLAIM RESPONSIBILITY TO SPILL HIS NEW BLOOD!!” She called into the crowed. “WHO IS READY TO INITIATE THIS NEW BLOOD TO THE FIGHT!”

“What!?” Bruce started, tugging his wrist.

“Relax,” Rescue whispered out of the corner of her mouth. “It's theatrics, mostly.”

“I DO!!” A voice called from the back of the crowd before Bruce could protest more.

The crowd split like the red sea to allow a lithe figure forward. The blind boy tapped his way into the ring, dark glasses glinting as his head swayed back and forth.

“I CLAIM HIS BLOOD!!” He boldly cried raising his cane into the air, tossing it into the crowd.

The crowd erupted, screaming his name.

“DAREDEVIL!!”

“But he’s blind!” Bruce cried, staring wide eyed at Rescue.

She savagely gripped Bruce's neck pulling him close. “Yeah, he is, but he is here for a reason.” She hissed in his face and turning him loose.

Bruce swallowed thickly and meandered to the middle. Daredevil stood there already, gangly limbs pulled close as he wrapped the beads of a rosary around his fingers. His head was bowed as he completed his prayer with a kiss to the beads, passing them and his glasses off to Rescue.

“Are you ready New Blood.” He grinned devilishly, his dim eyes flicking uselessly.

Bruce said nothing, just raised his fist uncertainty. He had never fought before in his life, not against bullies, not against anybody. Bruce had found things moved easier for him if he just rolled over, giving up before he ever started. He had no clue what was keeping him in the ring and not bolting for the door – for being blind, Daredevil was intimidating - , perhaps it was Rescue pacing a steady circle around the two combatants, or Tony and War Machine cheering for him or his blood, or it could have been the steady eyes of the gorgeous bloody Black Widow. It could have been any single one of those things, or nothing at all. Rescues voice was a dim hum as she rattled off the rules, Bruce couldn’t focus on her voice. The only thing he saw was the grinning snarl of Daredevil.

And then Rescue’s shrill whistle rent the air, making him jump. The entire rink was silent for a millisecond before a fist smashed itself into Bruce’s sternum. He doubled over, the breath rushing from his lungs, and with the sudden pain his head cleared. He fell below Daredevil’s second fist and rolled to avoid his foot. The crowd had found their voice, animal cries of satisfaction filled the space. Bruce rolled to his feet and brought his fists back up, barely blocking a haymaker. The guy was good, he hit like a sledgehammer and was fast, despite his obvious disadvantage, he seemed to know where Bruce was going to be even before Bruce himself knew. There was a rage that boiled under the boys skin, Bruce could practically taste it, he felt it in every blow that was landed. Bruce felt his own long neutered rage raise in response, he had to do something, he couldn't let Daredevil use him as a punching bag.

But that's exactly what he had let his father do. What he let his bullies do, let the teachers do, what he let everyone do his entire life. He was Bruce the Punching Bag. But not here, here he didn't have a name, here he could be anything. Here he could even be brave. Gritting his teeth against another merciless blow from Daredevil, Bruce felt his rage bubble and froth. Barring his teeth he dodge a blow, clenched his fist and drove it into the blind boys side.

A guttural “ooof” escaped from deep in Daredevil’s stomach. He stumbled back a few steps, blinking in surprise. The crowd hushed, sensing something..

Bruce paid them little mind, staring at his curled fist in astonishment. His shoulders heaved and his rage sang in his blood. He felt good.

“Finally!” Daredevil crowed, leaping back onto Bruce, to pummel him with fists and feet.

But this time Bruce was ready. He threw himself to meet Daredevil, his own fist flying. Flesh meeting flesh, each blow making Bruce feel better and better. His body ached but still he fought like an alley cat, both boys hissing and growling as they tore each other apart.

The crowd was chanting Daredevils name, as he threw Bruce to the dusty bloody ground. He leaped, hands aiming for his throat, Bruce’s long dormant instincts kicked in and he brought his feet up, catching Daredevil in the gut and kicked the other boy over his head. The crowed erupted again, finding pleasure in the rampant violence. And then a high clear voice called out “Hulk!” In a frenzy the rest of the crowd took up the name chanting and chanting, “HULK, HULK, HULK!” till the rafters shook.

Bruce found his feet with the realization that ‘Hulk’ was his name. Hulk grinned, reveling in the crowd cheering for him, he felt pride and pleasure bloom in his chest. He spat a glob of blood onto the floor and prepared himself for Daredevil second wave. The devil didn't disappoint and came at Hulk with renewed vigor, face split in a blood stained grin. They tussled and grappled, blood painting their clothes and dust thrown into the orange light.

A quick glance into the crowd and Hulk found the faces of his comrades. Iron Man and War Machine were pitched forward, faces a mask of ugly snarls as they egged the boys on. Hulk’s eyes flicked to the back, there was Black Widow, standing up on the railing pumping her empty bottle into the air. He couldn’t hear her, but he could read her lips as they formed around his name. Pride was the last thing to float through his mind before he was bum rushed by Daredevil, the boy catching him around the waist brining him to the floor hard, his head bouncing off the hard floor.

Hulk’s vision blurred as his teeth rattled in his head. His ears were ringing or was that Rescue’s whistle calling off the fight? He saw a double image of Rescue raising Daredevil’s bloody fist into the air, but the crowd wasn't just screaming Daredevil’s name. A steady chant of Hulk, Hulk, Hulk reverberated throughout the building. Iron Man, War Machine, Black Widow and few others, even Daredevil hoisted a punch drunk Hulk onto their shoulders. Chanting and chanting for him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this AU grabbed me by the throat today at work and wouldn't let me go until it was written. I really like this idea and might do something with it after 'You Take the High Road' is completed.


End file.
